


i was young and life was dawn

by lyuyu



Category: The Wayhaven Chronicles (Interactive Fiction)
Genre: F/M, Whole lot of Angst, rating will go up with part 2, the dreaded turning talk
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-07
Updated: 2021-03-07
Packaged: 2021-03-13 22:07:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,246
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29907759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lyuyu/pseuds/lyuyu
Summary: gwen tells adam about her decision not to turn.
Relationships: Female Detective/Adam du Mortain
Kudos: 1





	i was young and life was dawn

Shit, her hands are sweating.

She’s tried to rehearse this—find the right words to say, how to even begin, mind blanking right after the mother of all worst conversation starters.

_We need to talk._

And this certainly isn’t the right place or time to do it either, in the middle of the day at the Agency facility, and Gwen doesn’t know what in the world had taken over her to be so convinced that she should drop by to do this now. A handful of excuses, surely, such as ‘ _at least Adam can drown himself in work right after’_ or, ‘ _maybe I won’t start crying in a public place’._

…Only that she’s already blinking away tears and she hasn’t even dared to open the door of the small office room he’s in yet. She could still back out—no, Adam must’ve already sensed her and is waiting on the other side for her to come in. So maybe instead of bailing, she could go in and plaster a smile on her face, pretend that she’s here for an innocent check-in. It’d make sense, a simple ‘ _hi honey, I just came to see you before I’m off to the station’._

Sweep the not-so-innocent ‘ _oh, and_ _I decided I’m not going to turn’_ under the carpet and keep it there for another year or so.

It could wait, can’t it?

…No, it can’t.

So she takes a deep breath in. _He will understand, he’ll have to—_ because it’s Adam and he is nothing if not pragmatic and understanding of the difficulty of the situation. Gwen would be a fool to think even for a second that he hadn’t had calculated all of the risks he would be taking by becoming involved with her; a human.

A mortal being.

Promises of practical forever were never exchanged, and neither of them ever expected there to be such.

Or so she hopes.

Gwen blows out a long breath and sets her hand on the door handle. Better get it over with or in a few seconds she’ll find herself striding out of here without one glance back.

*

It’s a funny thing, guilt.

The common consensus is that you feel it—or should feel it—when you have done something that you shouldn’t have done, something bad, but Gwen has learned long ago that it isn’t as black and white as they like to claim. She’s become quite familiar with the feeling—after all, she has walked hand in hand with it for quite some time now.

(Or, four years, seven months, two weeks, and some odd days, to be exact, the length of their relationship, and Gwen curses herself for not bringing _it_ up before it ever started.)

Just as she suspected, Adam is already waiting for her on the other side, looking at her expectantly when she finally makes it inside the tiny office room and shuts the door after her. Gwen flashes a careful smile—a fruitless effort, as it falls away in an instant, and Adam merely frowns at the sight of her.

“What is the matter?”

He certainly doesn’t waste time dancing around subjects. Gwen chuckles weakly as she walks further inside. “Don’t I get a hello?”

“You would,” Adam says, leaning back in his seat and crossing his arms, “but you look as though you’d seen a ghost, and your heart is beating as loud as a jackhammer.”

Gwen grimaces. “Charming.”

She rounds to take a seat on one of the chairs across him; the desk between them is all but swallowed with paperwork. “Busy day?”

Adam nods slightly. “It is.”

She gives a nod of her own, swiping her hands on her jeans—cold, and still sweaty and shaking. She’s not quite sure what to do with them, wringing them together and then releasing, only to lift them to rest on the table and fidget with her nails, eyes flitting around the room and avoiding the pointed stare of Adam’s that seems to drill into her temple.

That is, until he leans forward and sets his own hand on top of hers without a word, and Gwen forces herself to meet his eye.

God, she sure feels guilty now.

“I need to talk to you,” she whispers. There, she said it, now all that’s needed is the follow-up, but the words seem to get stuck somewhere between the back of her throat and the lump forming there.

“What about?” The question is asked in a neutral tone enough, though a tiny tinge of worry colors it.

“I…”

And that’s when it really kicks in, the crushing swirl of emotions, not all of them having a name.

Is it disappointment?

Fear, uncertainty?

Gwen has learned a lot from him; yet certitude, for better or worse, is not one of the traits that have rubbed off on her. Neither is stone-cold stoicism, the unfortunate proof of it running down and staining her cheeks.

_Shit,_ she promised herself _not to cry._

“What is it?” Adam asks again. Softly, quietly.

She slides her hands slowly away from under his to her lap, gaze dropping down with them.

“I… It’s, I…” She wipes her eyes quickly on the back of her hand, her voice barely audible, “I’m—I’m not going to turn.”

A quiet follows, so deep that Gwen can hear her heart pounding in her chest, and she can only wonder how loud it is in Adam’s ears.

She can’t look at him— _can’t_. And it’s the first time ever she finds herself unable to do so in all of the years she’s known him, loved him; not once has she shied away from him. It would be embarrassing if she wasn’t so filled with—

( _Guilt._

There’s no other word for it.)

They remain silent for what could be either seconds, minutes, or hours, it all feels the same, waiting for a pin to drop, a knock on the door, any other sound to break through the thick curtain of it, but nothing comes. It seems like both the end and the beginning, or maybe something in-between, all she knows that this endless waiting for Adam to speak, to say _anything_ , will soon be the one thing to kill her.

Her throat is dry as a desert, voice hoarse and wobbly when she tries to push through it, “Adam—”

“It is your choice.”

A statement. Delivered with zero emotion, and now she dares a glance at him, only to find the same blankness carry on to his features too. “It was a decision you had to make, and I respect it.”

Gwen’s mouth drops open to answer but can muster out nothing in her daze. Adam gathers some of the papers in front of him into a neat pile and rises from his seat without another word.

She follows suit, clambering up from hers when Adam makes to go around her to the door, catching his arm. He turns around to face her, no sign of any emotion disturbing the emptiness of his expression.

“Will you be—are you okay?” Gwen hurries to ask. She swears she can see the quickest flicker of something pass on his face when he glances down at her hand holding him in place, but it gets swiftly replaced with yet another hollow mask.

Adam meets her eye once more. “I’ll see you at home.”

Then he steps back and makes to leave, her hand falling from his arm back to her side.

**Author's Note:**

> find me on tumblr @hartfeld


End file.
